


Party Foul

by squeezedoutofmiracles



Series: Taakitz Pirate AU [2]
Category: The Adventure Zone (Podcast)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pirate, Alternate Universe - Royalty, Alternate Universe - kingdoms, F/F, M/M, Party Crashing, egregious party manners, mentions of exhibitionism sort of but it’s real vague, royal etiquette
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-03
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2019-03-13 05:16:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,908
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13563642
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/squeezedoutofmiracles/pseuds/squeezedoutofmiracles
Summary: @hyrulehobbit “successfully sneaking into a fancy party”-A fic swap for TTaaDD, for my babe hyrulehobbit. Part of the Taakitz Pirate AU, where shit goes down, and I get to indulge my penchant for writing mad fancy parties.In which Raven Queen has no chill, Pan has somehow even less chill, Taako pulls a party foul, and Kravitz gets duped, tricked, and swindled.What can I say? I have a weakness for Taako being a huge inconvenience.





	Party Foul

**Author's Note:**

  * For [hyrulehobbit](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hyrulehobbit/gifts).



> Thank u so much to @starmaid on twitter and tumblr for editing this fic

The winter solstice ball - the most joyful and merry night of the year for everyone in the seven kingdoms. Apart from the busiest man in all the land, at the right hand of the Raven Queen herself, Kravitz.

The Raven Queen threw legendary parties at the winter solstice, to celebrate the longest night of the year. The wine cellars took a fine beating, and the halls sang, and for once the usually cold and austere castle rang with laughter and people danced until sunrise.

However, it was a very exclusive event. Only those in the Queen’s favour were allowed to attend, and the list fluctuated wildly throughout the year. It grew steadily as the months cooled in the buildup to the event, where people’s wills got weaker and they realised that the Raven Queen was fully willing to hold grudges into the solstice. Their desire to be seen at the social event of the year overrode their pride, and as the days got shorter the throne room filled up with people “squaring away their differences” and hoping to earn an invite.

Kravitz didn’t need to sleep, but he always felt the urge to hide away from work for a week after manning the winter solstice, just to recuperate.

The preparations began about a week before the night itself, with the ballroom strictly out of bounds to all but the most essential events staff. An unbelievable amount of stuff was hauled in. New curtains, swathes of fabric that hung from the walls, tables, a new set of chandeliers, and more candles than was at all reasonable. The kitchens were in constant uproar, with huge crates of raw materials being heaved in every day, and ice being shipped in so the meat would keep.

Guests started arriving in their ships, filling the guest houses of the kingdom; all the rooms with sea views booked a year in advance. The parlours of the kingdom were full for the week leading up. The whole city swelled with anticipation. Finely dressed nobility swarmed the streets, flowers crowded shop windows, and seamstresses got no rest whatsoever. The thieves lived richly, and the merchants sold excellently.

On the night of the ball nobody slept, and nobody died.

Kravitz was given the morning to sleep late, and did not take it. There was far too much to do, too many people to organise. The chef was complaining, Her Majesty’s clothing had to be picked up, the flowers were arriving, the band was setting up. In what world could Kravitz possibly continue - or even begin - to sleep?

The chefs finalised the menu, and the band managed to set up without incident. The florists decked the place out with all manner of suitably gothic foliage that would make Fantasy Bram Stoker keel over weeping, and by the end the whole hall looked like a shimmering tear in space, smelling like roses and glistening like stardust. When the guests began to trickle in, some overeager and arriving twenty minutes before the doors officially opened, Kravitz was there in his formal uniform to check them against the guest list, and permit entry to those fortunate enough to grace it.

Nobility from all corners of the land showed up, immaculate from head to toe, clothes monochrome, some sparkling, some decked in outrageous feathers, some in suits, some in dresses, some in clothes Kravitz didn’t have names for. Kravitz fitted in well, with his dark silk-lined cloak over a fitted waistcoat embroidered with plumage, silver shining at his throat and the pommel of the raven-headed sword at his hip; quill moving over the paper, bidding people welcome as they arrived.

The crowd got thicker after the moon had risen for an hour. The music could be heard spilling from the high slitted windows of the ballroom, littered with the fall of hooves as more guests arrived in horse drawn carriages, and the creaking of masts from the docks that swelled to bursting as some made their arrival by sea.

The crowds parted at the special arrival of a bright white ship, glistening with the moonlight. The plank was set up for Lady Istus’s arrival. Kravitz waved in the guests he had been dealing with and set his list aside, trusting the guard to hold the door as he moved down the steps to go and greet her, in a shimmer of the most expensive black fabric in the realm.

She disembarked, and she looked resplendent.

Kravitz had worked with regality for thirty years, groomed for it ever since he had been plucked from the street by his Lady’s hand, but his breath still caught every time he saw Lady Istus dressed to kill. Her dress looked as if it had been woven from starlight, a veil covering her hair, glittering with the most divine gemstones from the world’s deepest mines. Her eyes were bright and calm in a knowing face, her hands folded in front of her as she stepped to the gangplank. Her feet clicked softly against the cobbles of the street. At her approach, Kravitz bowed low and rose when she chuckled softly, offering him her hand.

He kissed it, not missing the fact she was wearing a dark ring on her fourth finger, and she smiled to him as he offered her his arm to escort her up to the door.

“Has she made her appearance yet?” Lady Istus asked, voice soft and pleasing as a bell.

“I have not heard a flutter of heavenly wings yet, my Lady, so I would assume not,” he murmured back, resisting the urge to smile when he heard Lady Istus chuckle at his shoulder.

“Tell her to get a move on, would you? I’ve travelled a long way to see her.”

“At once, my Lady.”

He left her to her own devices from the grand entrance onwards, and heard the hush that fell across the crowd from the moment she entered the ballroom. Her entourage consisted of four veiled figures, faces and bodies concealed by the traditional obscurations; a waist-length white veil that fell to cover the identities of Lady Istus’ handmaidens. They were her personal confidants and security, and you wouldn’t believe they could fight in those robes until you saw one of them take down a charging bugbear without getting a mark on the pure white visage.

They were terrifying. Kravitz had never heard any of them make a sound, not so much as a cough or a breath. Then again, he had never attempted to get in their way. He was not a fool.

A couple of admittances later another handmaiden glided up the steps to the door, standing silently beside Kravitz as he let through another couple of elven nobility in dresses that he was certain cost more than their naval fleet. Kravitz looked to the handmaiden, dressed in the standard impeccable white veil, and frowned. He was sure there had only been four on the guest list, and flipped back to the page for Lady Istus’s entourage with a slight frown. The handmaiden leaned closer, posture straining slightly, and Kravitz had to fight himself to keep from taking a step away. Yes, Lady Istus plus four. But that was definitely the correct uniform, and he didn’t particularly want to get in the way of one of the most highly trained guards in the land. Where had that royal guard gotten to?

He was interrupted by the distinct sound of bells and bleating.

Kravitz groaned inwards as Pan’s goat-drawn carriage rattled into view. It looked as if it had grown straight out of the ground, and was drawn by six of the biggest goats anyone had ever had the misfortune of having to see with their own approximately-two eyes.

Kravitz hissed a sigh and handed the guest list to a guard, waving the extraneous handmaiden inside. “Just go,” he muttered, pulling his cloak into position. “Your Lady is already inside.”

“Thanks,” the handmaiden said, and Kravitz didn’t have enough time to mark it down as weird before a cloven hoof kicked down the door to the hewn-wood carriage, and Pan made his arrival.

There were pixies steering the carriage, and they seemed to think their job was done now that they had arrived at the function. They disappeared in a shower of dust, leaving six goats with slack reins as Pan hunched out of the carriage, clacking his horns on the door on the way out.

“HEY KRAVITZ, MY MAN!” He stumbled out, clopping over cobbles as four dryads tumbled out after him, giggling, all already far more intoxicated than any other guest would have gotten away with.

Kravitz wrinkled his nose and nodded politely as Pan half-galloped up the stairs towards him, grinning ear to ear, and slapped him squarely on the shoulder. A sheep hopped from the carriage, nudging the door closed behind it as it trotted up the stairs after the squad of dryads.

Kravitz’s eyes went wide and he wrenched the guest list back from the guard, flipping through it wildly.

“Greetings, Lord Pan, our lady the Raven Queen wishes me to bid you a… sufficiently good evening, and remind you that she requested you bathe before entry.”

“Not a problem, my brother, I got you! Bathed before I got here!” The satyr grinned, took Kravitz’s hand by the wrist, and yanked it down to plant squarely on his furry thigh. In fairness the fur there did seem freshly washed and curled, and Pan’s hair was strewn with tiny violets, his beard styled and braided. And he was wearing an approximation of a shirt, even if it was bright green. How the Queen tolerated him, Kravitz would never know.

“I see. We do not have goat parking facilities at the palace...”

With a snap of Pan’s fingers the carriage and goats leading it were gone, and he grinned at Kravitz, wiggling his overgrown eyebrows, shockingly green eyes shining beneath them.

“And the sheep,” said Kravitz.

“What about her?” Pan tipped his head.

“She does not have an invite,” Kravitz said, words clipped, wondering if they had space in the stables for a very fancy sheep.

“She’s my plus one, Kravitz! Come on, you got this down, I sent it in months back! C’mon, she’s a riot.” He laid a hand on Kravitz’s guest list and flipped through the pages messily, as Kravitz’s skeleton tried to escape through the upper atmosphere, until he came across the right section. 

_Pan (VIP) + 4 (+ Meryl)_

“...I see,” Kravitz said, teeth grinding as he looked to the group, with Pan swaying slightly on unsteady feet. “So the sheep is-”

“Meryl. Issy knows her!”

Kravitz looked at the sheep. And back to the guest list. And back to the sheep. She was chewing on one of the dryads legs, but the dryad didn’t seem to mind much.

“...Have an excellent evening, sire,” Kravitz murmured, gesturing for Pan and his entourage to enter.

Pan chuckled, clapping Kravitz on the shoulder again. When he lifted his hand away, a tiny sprig of moss was growing on the feathers he’d manhandled.

“You know I will,” Pan said with a wink, and disappeared inside.

“I would prefer not to,” Kravitz muttered once they were all inside, and turned to admit the next guests.

The doors closed fifteen minutes before midnight, and Kravitz left the guards to turn away stragglers. He had more work to do.

The party was almost in full swing when he stepped into the ballroom. The music was playing in a beautiful swell, and party-goers swirled around the dance floor in a beautifully choreographed waltz. Drinks and snacks on silver trays filtered through the guests, whisked away to be refilled whenever they emptied. Wine flowed freely, everyone gossiped and laughed and danced and spent time together in Her grace, marvelling at the generosity of the kingdom once again, and it seemed the night was going impeccably.

The Queen’s two favourite members of royalty were chattering by the steps, unaccompanied. It was no surprise the Raven Queen hadn’t made her appearance yet; there was absolutely no point in entering the room unless every guest was present to see it. Kravitz stood at the entrance to the hall for a moment, casting a glance over the guests, to the four handmaidens shadowing Lady Istus like pillars of marble, shifting as one as they turned to meet his gaze and sending a shiver through him as he averted his eyes from where Istus and Pan stood talking like old friends. Where had that sheep gotten to? The dryads were nowhere to be seen either, though he was sure his Lady wouldn’t much care about them missing her grand entrance. They were hardly likely to have much clout on the political scene in the coming year.

The band fell quiet, through no cue anyone in the room was privy to. Kravitz watched as the guests populating the dance floor fell still, clothes fluttering to a stop from the last swirl, and they all turned to the staircase at the forefront of the room. The doors creaked open, moonlight coming in through the huge window above it, the kingdom’s insignia stained into the glass silhouetted against the shining carpet as the Raven Queen was revealed, in all her splendour, standing at the top of the stairs with the light of the moon spilling in behind her.

A flock of ravens, inky feathers beating the still, captive air, burst through the door and flocked around her. Kravitz lowered his face into his hand, pinching the bridge of his nose. They had not discussed releasing two dozen live birds into the ballroom, but he should have expected it, in all fairness.

She moved down the steps, silent and graceful, a feathered train flowing behind her. Gentle applause heralded her arrival, and Kravitz cast an eye over the crowd, not missing how Lady Istus smiled gently and shook her head just slightly, knowing the Queen’s ways and not at all surprised.

The Queen did not give a speech. It was not her style. The guests would instead receive seemingly hand-penned letters delivered by raven within the next week, sealed in silver wax, containing details of how they conducted themselves at the party, phrased as thanks but leaving them feeling as if they had been criticised. It was her speciality.

The only person who commanded her attention was of course the fair Lady Istus, who immediately received her hand at the bottom of the stairs. They mutually bent at the waist. Soft words were exchanged, and Pan patted the Queen on the shoulder, turning and snatching a drink off a passing tray to put into her hand. He grabbed one for himself and went to reignite the band and get the dancing going again.

Kravitz saw the Queen smile, and heard Lady Istus laugh, and rather felt he was prying by watching over them. So he turned to leave them to it, trusting the handmaidens to keep the pair of them out of trouble as he went to check on the caterers.

There was, predictably, an issue in the kitchen, but nothing that Kravitz standing there menacingly couldn’t solve. They got their shit together and swept out trays of the nibbles marked down for that specific portion of the night - beautifully presented snails cooked inside their shells, each swimming in garlic butter. Kravitz, against his better judgement, plucked one off the tray and necked it, throwing the shell into the bin at a distance and exiting the room to do a sweep of the guest rooms and make sure people weren’t getting cosy where they shouldn’t.

There was a certain amount of PDA that was accepted at the parties. When overlooking the shimmering sea on the balcony, just after midnight at the Raven Queen’s party, standing next to a very well-dressed someone, sometimes you just wanted to kiss them. And that was tolerated, in moderation.

What was not tolerated was couples plastered up against the walls of the guest wing, half dressed, makeup smeared over their faces and hair tangled in each other’s hands, moaning fit to wake the undead.

Pan had to be told that, repeatedly, but maybe this time it had finally sunk in. He still seemed to be out on the dance floor having a respectable amount of fun, yet to try and climb the walls. But Kravitz still had to do check the other wings of the palace, just to make sure nobody was disgracing themselves.

They were. No matter how hard you tried, people would always find ways to disgrace themselves.

Kravitz threw no less than five couples out of the sky garden, found an especially brave trio in the ravens’ roost, turned back a pair heading for the maids’ quarters, and began on the storage cupboards. Thankfully they all had the decency to act embarrassed when the head of the Queen’s guard caught them in a state of undress. They righted themselves and returned to the party, which was an improvement on previous years.

He hadn’t expected to find an _individual_ misbehaving, though.

Hearing scuffling coming from inside a broom closet, Kravitz sighed to himself and glanced about the corridor, half hoping for some esteemed guests to see whatever state of disrepair these individuals were hauled out in, but it seemed the corridor was empty. He cleared his throat, and wrenched the cupboard door open.

“You are here under the Express _courtesy_ of Her Majesty the Raven Queen, the least you can do is-”

Kravitz saw a streak of white, a veil hung up on a broom, and his eyes went wide.

One of the handmaidens was changing in the broom cupboard.

He covered his eyes in a flash, choking up, stepping back and shutting the door slightly.

“My Lady, I am so sorry, I thought you were... Please, forgive my intrusion, I didn’t-”

There was a scramble for fabric within the cupboard, and Kravitz could feel his cheeks incinerating, breath coming faster. This was how he died.

“Uh, no shit, it’s alright, my fine gentleman, just... shut the door and be on your way.”

The voice was an ungainly falsetto with a grating accent, and Kravitz flinched. What on Earth? It was enough of a shock, frankly, that he dropped his hand from his eyes, and was met with an entirely unwelcome sight.

Taako Taaco, the Mongoose, ethereal scourge of the seven seas, and bane of Kravitz’s existence, was standing half-dressed in handmaiden robes, veil in one hand and wizarding hat in the other, evidently halfway through changing out of his disguise for sneaking into the party. Kravitz could feel a red mist descending.

“Put a shirt on. Right. Now.”

Taako glanced from one wall to the other, upwards, downwards, and seemed to realise the only way out of the cupboard was through the door Kravitz was very neatly filling.

“Listen-”

“RIGHT. NOW,” Kravitz grated out, nails scoring lines in the doorframe.

Taako seemed to consider his position, sighed, and pulled on the shirt he’d thrown to the floor, a flattering black number with lacing at the throat, doing up the buttons on the wrists as he muttered under his breath.

“Just fuckin’ stab me if you’re going to, fucker, get it over with,” Taako muttered, throwing a glare up at Kravitz and down to the pommel of his sword.

As much as he would have loved to, Kravitz suspected that Taako knew he couldn’t do such a thing. It was the winter solstice. Nobody slept, and nobody died.

“Oh, I see, you’re going to be a little bitch about it? Ok, cool. Cool cool cool.” Taako nodded, putting his hat on and dropping the handmaiden robes to the floor, straightening his hat and offering Kravitz his elbow, as if he was going to escort him into a waltz.

Kravitz snatched him by his wrist, the other hand going to the scruff of his neck as he heaved him bodily from the cupboard and into the hallway.

He would take Taako to the dungeons, deal with him tomorrow. For as much as he’d love to gloat that the scourge of the seas was in his possession, he had a ball to run. Their path took them back towards the ballroom, and Kravitz began planning routes to take to avoid crowds, to arrest Taako silently, without anyone noticing. But a tiny seed of pride wriggled up in his mind, and told him that it would be fun to march Taako through the ballroom itself. Have people see him arresting the Mongoose? Set an example.

So Kravitz smirked as he turned towards the string music, passing more and more clusters of party-goers, and the pirate continued to chunter under his breath, stumbling every so often when Kravitz took a corner too fast or picked up the pace, and Kravitz took a tiny sliver of joy from each complaint.

They burst into the ballroom, and there was no sudden silence or swivel of heads. Everyone was busy wrapped up in the music, enjoying their own conversations, and Kravitz dragged Taako fluidly around the edge of the hall towards the main exit, steering him around lingering couples and towards the cool sea air of outside.

Taako made a snatch for a canapé at a nearby table, and that’s when it all went to shit.

Taako’s fingers snagged on the tablecloth, and instead of cutting his losses and grumbling like a normal prisoner, he decided to stick it out, like a sulking cat. The whole tablecloth was dragged, achingly slowly, from the top of the table, and twenty silver trays complete with drinks and nibbles came after him.

The clatter was legendary.

Every head in the ballroom turned to look at them with a screech of an interrupted violin. Kravitz, the admiral of the queen’s navy, with a pirate essentially tucked under his arm and enough snacks to sustain a small village littered on the floor behind them, not to mention the beautiful brocade table runner grasped in the outlawed elf’s sticky paws.

Kravitz could feel the heat rising in his cheeks.

“Kravitz?”

He would recognise the voice of his Lady, the Raven Queen, in a cacophony at two-hundred paces. It was far easier when She was the only one speaking in a silent room.

“Yes, my Lady?” Kravitz turned to face Her, and Taako turned with him, tablecloth still knotted in his hands. 

“What exactly is going on?”

She looked impassive as ever, and he could tell She was raising an eyebrow, even though the finely detailed iron crown would not allow him to see it. He glanced to Taako, as if it was his first time seeing him, and cleared his throat, standing up a little taller.

“I am escorting an unwelcome guest from the premises.”

Lady Istus tilted her head, stepping forward a little. Kravitz realised, with a sickening drop of his stomach, that he had interrupted them in the middle of a dance.

“And why is he unwelcome, may I ask?” she said, voice smooth and even, stroking her hair back from her face.

“He was...” Kravitz felt his mouth go dry. He looked again to Taako, who, to his credit, seemed to be feeling equally fucked. “He entered impersonating one of your handmaidens, my Lady, and he was quite specifically not invited.”

“Oh, I see,” she said, smiling, and took a step closer. “This is a simple misunderstanding. He is one of my guests.”

Kravitz felt the whole world drop out from under him. “He. I. Your guest, my Lady?”

“Yes. We are allowed them, are we not?”

Kravitz’s voice became strangled as he struggled valiantly to keep his composure. “Of course.”

“Anyone?”

“Anyone.”

“Then I choose him. Kravitz, would you get my guest a drink?”

“Right away, madam.”

He dropped the elf like a hot coal, and help swooped in instantly to clear the mess they had made. The trays were cleared and new ones were present almost immediately in a clatter of silver as Kravitz headed for the kitchen to get himself a drink in an unbroken glass.

He could have sworn he heard Lady Istus speak to his Queen, in a low tone, just as he left.

“That’s for making me wait.”

Kravitz’s mind swam as he swept into the kitchen, a cloud of feathers and fury, marching to the back with a scowl and snatching up a crystal goblet. He pulled a bottle of red from the latest haul that had been dumped on the side, brought up from the chill of the cellars. The servers, no matter how desperate the need for more wine was, waited until Kravitz was done pouring a glass, took a swig himself and topped it up again, before they took the bottle to the ballroom, where their new esteemed guest was no doubt waiting.

Kravitz re-emerged from the kitchen just in time to see the elf draw a wand from his high boot, and have a minor heart attack. A couple of guests’ faces showed similar levels of panic, though a glance to Lady Istus and the Queen on her arm showed they were unfussed and unbothered by the development.

With a gesture that Kravitz didn’t see, the elf’s visage changed. The mismatched outfit, hurried together in the closet, transformed in a swirl of silver fabric. A capelet hung from his shoulders, fluttering momentarily. His wizard hat fell over perfectly styled hair, the brim low over his ears, a pair of impeccably tailored high waisted pants tucked into high boots. Kravitz grit his teeth, stepping closer and clearing his throat. He pressed the drink into Taako’s hand.

“Oh shit, sweetheart, thank you.” Taako beamed at him, turning with a new, full face of makeup, jewellery glittering at his throat and hanging from his ears, woven into the braid that fell from his shoulder. “You didn’t have to go to all that trouble for little old me,” he said, giving Kravitz a wink that gifted him a small aneurysm.

Taako sipped at the wine and pulled a face, sniffing at it.

“Is this… Chardon Rouge?” he asked.

“It is Her Majesty’s private reserve,” Kravitz responded through TIGHTLY gritted teeth.

Taako shrugged, swigging it again. “It’ll do. Thanks, pumpkin.”

Kravitz was just about ready to cut and run when Taako perked up again, reaching inside his capelet, rustling with something. He fumbled a few silver pieces from an inside purse and tucked them into Kravitz’s top pocket, patting it with a simpering smile.

“There,” Taako said. “Always tip the help. It’s like I say in my memoirs, Taako Time by Taako Taaco-”

The quiet was broken by a very soft chuckle from the Queen’s direction, and with astronomical levels of self restraint, Kravitz escorted himself from the hall, gently steaming.

The evening dragged. Kravitz initially kept away from the ballroom, busying himself doing checks of the serving staff, the docks, the corridors. He found most people were gravitating to the ballroom, which made his job a lot easier, though it did rather demand he focus his attention there somewhat. He eventually bit the bullet, after leaving the guests to their own devices for quite long enough, and reentered the hall.

The music had swelled, and it was obvious everyone had had a fair bit more to drink. A crowd had gathered over by the reassembled hors d'oeuvres table, where Taako sat, the centre of all conceivable attention, perched on the table with his booted feet dangling over the edge. Kravitz glanced about for the Queen and her Lady, and saw them twirling together on the dance floor. He was glad they’d escaped the terrible trashy pull of the pirate whose sermon was in full swing, enrapturing a large chunk of the trashier nobility’s attention as they watched him with wide eyes.

Taako was sipping at a glass of fizzy expensive-looking wine, gesturing with a heavily jewelled hand and looking very much like he was enjoying every bit of attention he was gifted. Kravitz was very nearly about to leave and check on other guests, when he caught wind of exactly what the elf was talking about.

“...And then we killed the illusion spell, and Admiral Kravitz was left standing on the deck of the wrong ship!” Taako punctuated this with a smirk and a sip of his wine, and a few nobles were tittered, glancing to each other and over to the Raven Queen. Their laughter died in their throats, however, when they saw Kravitz standing at the fringe of the circle, cutting a dark, unimpressed, and imposing figure.

Kravitz stepped closer, and the crowds parted. There was a moment of recognition where the elf realised he was listening in, and Kravitz waited a beat for the sick look of dread that would undoubtedly bloom across his face. Nope. Taako’s smirk only grew, and he lifted a leg to plant a heel on the table, waving at him.

“Isn’t that right, pumpkin?”

Every face in the crowd turned to Kravitz, a couple gasping, some stifling giggles, and he could have sworn even the band members skipped a beat in their graceful sweeping melody.

“That’s not. Exactly. How I remember it,” Kravitz said, drawing himself up straighter.

“Oh, shit, ’cause it’s exactly how _I_ remember it,” Taako said.

“Did you mention the part where you told me there was a child on the burning ship? The ship your crew set fire to?” Kravitz asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Yep. They think it’s fuckin’ hilarious,” Taako said with a grin, looking to the crowd who seemed uncomfortable all of a sudden.

Kravitz cast each of them a long slow glance, and several of them discovered somewhere more important that they needed to be. A few particularly unpleasant ones openly smirked at him, and Kravitz took note of which would not be receiving party favours.

“I see,” he said. “I suppose I should leave you to your storytelling.”

“Oh, no no, not so fast,” Taako said, reaching out after him as Kravitz made to turn away, lifting his wine glass and necking it, sighing in satisfaction as he held the empty glass out to Kravitz. “I need a refill.”

Kravitz felt himself malfunction for a second, staring at the glass in Taako’s hand and then turning his head, glacially slowly, to the full wine glasses two feet away on the table Taako was using as a seat.

“Then by all means,” Kravitz said, “get a refill.”

“Oh no, no, not this cheap shit,” Taako said, waving distastefully at the glasses of wine, the ones that had been poured en-masse for the guests to help themselves to. “What do I look like, some kind of hussy? No, I’m drinking the white sparkling reserve, sweetheart, the 705 vintage?” He cocked his head, like he was speaking to a slow puppy. “Do you know where that’s kept?”

“Not in the kitchen that’s for absolutely certain,” Kravitz said, voice low and grating as he reached out to take Taako’s empty chalice, wondering exactly where he’d found some 705. That was exclusively kept down in the cellar. Where on EARTH had he found a bottle just lying about?

“No, I had someone bring a bottle up for me,” Taako said. “I’ll show you where they’re keeping it. Come on.” He clicked his tongue and hopped off the table, sashaying off through the crowd. Kravitz hurried after him.

Taako walked straight, no matter who was in front of him, and somehow people parted. Maybe it was the way he looked as if he had no intention of moving himself. They were not so eager to let Kravitz through after him, however, and it was becoming increasingly frustrating. So they parted for this well-dressed pirate but not for the Admiral of the Queen's fleet? He saw how it was. Falling behind was infuriating, but Taako took notice after a scant half-minute, sticking his hand out and taking Kravitz’s, tugging him closer and forging a path for the both of them.

They took a hard right, veering onto the dancefloor, and Kravitz held the crystal glass up above their heads, eyes wide as he got spun around, dodging couples, until Taako turned, in the middle of the floor, smirking dangerously. He stepped nearer to Kravitz, who had stopped in his tracks, and set a hand on his waist, quirking an eyebrow as he got cosy and stepped up close enough that the brim of his hat almost nudged Kravitz’s forehead.

“I’ll lead,” Taako said, voice low and smug, and in one movement he stepped back and turned, swirling the pair of them flawlessly into the tide of dancers, stepping into the dance as if they’d been present from the very beginning.

Kravitz drew a sharp breath, hand still clasping Taako’s, the other holding the empty glass aloft above their heads. Oh. Oh dear.

Of course he knew how to dance. It would be a shambles if the right hand man of the Queen who threw the most legendary parties in the land didn’t know the basics of ballroom. And so, quite despite himself, he fell into step with the Glimmersea Waltz, swaying in time with the music and turning as Taako led him across the floor.

The elf looked disgustingly pleased with himself. Grinning, eyes never leaving Kravitz’s, never setting a foot out of place. He looked in his absolute element, capelet swirling about his shoulders, jewellery catching the soft light of the chandeliers, and Kravitz knew with absolute certainty that this would stoke the rumour mill for _months_.

Taako pinched the glass from Kravitz’s hand and placed it on a passing tray without faltering, taking Kravitz’s wrist and guiding his hand to set on his shoulder, touching under his chin for a moment to shut his mouth properly and hold his head up higher.

“Chin up, shoulders back, don’t slouch. I won’t have you showing me up,” Taako murmured without moving his lips, breaking away just a moment to bow to the next couple in time with the music, returning with a well-choreographed smile.

“Maybe you should have picked-” Kravitz broke away to bow on his turn to the lady to his side, and she returned the favour with a gracious low swoop before they both returned to their partners “-a more cooperative partner.”

“You’re cooperating just fine,” Taako said, and Kravitz could have sworn his hand squeezed his waist just slightly, enough that Kravitz almost flinched. Taako’s hand was so warm, up against cool skin through silken waistcoat and the finest shirt Kravitz owned. It almost felt as if he was wearing. Far less.

“Why don’t you pick someone else to bother? I’m a busy man,” Kravitz murmured, lifting his head up awkwardly high as Taako pulled him in closer to spin them a full 360. Kravitz’s cloak was definitely NOT meant for dancing on a ballroom floor; it caught some poor unsuspecting halfling fully in the face, leaving Taako in a very poorly suppressed fit of giggles as they swooped away, swaying like waves on the tide.

“Why would I do something like that? You’re a lot of fun to bother,” Taako said, pressing a little closer than the dance necessarily called for, hand sliding slightly lower on his waist. Kravitz felt his breath catch in his throat.

“It’s my _job_ to-”

“Ugh, your stupid job. Can’t we forget about that? For like, a night?”

“I’m currently _working _.”__

__“Sure, working real hard.” Taako winked, having to tilt his head back to look Kravitz square in the eye. Kravitz realised, just then, that Taako was wearing some kind of perfume he hadn’t noticed before. Smelled floral, like hibiscus on sea spray._ _

__It was. Nice._ _

__The song drew to a long slow close, and Taako pulled away, bending at the waist to bow, and Kravitz followed suit a second too late. There was a pregnant pause in the time between songs, quiet chatter filling the room, and more than a couple glances were thrown their way. Kravitz didn’t clear off quite fast enough, as the strings started up again with a far livelier jig, and he heard a familiar voice whoop from across the hall, followed by a clatter of cloven feet._ _

__“Oh, hell no,” Taako said, wrinkling his nose and making a beeline for the edge of the dancefloor._ _

__Kravitz also hurried out of the way as young athletic partners filled the floor, and those with stiff upper lips filtered off. He noticed the fair Lady Istus taking the Queen by the hand, hitching her skirts up, and he turned away so he could claim plausible deniability._ _

__The cool night air beckoned him, his head spinning with far too many thoughts, and he made his way through the crowd towards the balconies leading off the side of the palace with a sea view. He needed some peace, just for a minute, to sort his head out, put things aside in neat little mental boxes. And everything would be fine._ _

__He found an empty balcony, one that overlooked the shimmering sea, and carried a breeze from the palace gardens on it, sweet-smelling and familiar. He rested his forearms on the top of the flat stone pillars that kept guests from wandering into the ocean, closing his eyes for a moment and taking a deep breath, listening to the hush of the tide below them._ _

__A rustle of feathers roused him, and he glanced to see a raven sitting on the handrail, head cocked as it looked to him, as if it wasn’t quite sure what to think. Kravitz reached out with a lazy half-smile and scratched its beak gently. The raven puffed out, preening itself under the attention._ _

__“SHIT, it’s quiet out here, isn’t it?” warbled a familiar voice._ _

__The raven pulled away, and Kravitz’s easy relaxed demeanour fell like a brick plunging into the sea. He looked back over his shoulder to see the pirate carrying two glasses of some overpriced wine, sipping from one. He thrust the other at Kravitz._ _

__To the raven, Taako said, “Sorry little guy, didn’t get you one.”_ _

__“She’d prefer cavefish eyes, I think,” Kravitz said._ _

__“Ew.”_ _

__“You seemed to be eating them perfectly fine earlier,” Kravitz said, sipping his newly acquired wine._ _

__“Oh, shit, is that what that was?” Taako muttered, then took an extra deep swig of his wine and sighed loudly, eyes fixed on the raven. “Can you make it say shit?”_ _

__“I can’t make them do anything,” Kravitz said, setting a hand on the bird’s back and scratching under a wing gently, watching how it lifted its head and fluffed up under the contact, giving a happy little croak._ _

__“Sure, free will and all that, but you fuckin’ know what I mean,” Taako persisted. “Do they do tricks?”_ _

__Kravitz hesitated. “There’s a certain amount they can mimic, yes-”_ _

__“FUCK!” Taako shouted, loud and sudden, staring down the raven._ _

__“...Excuse me?” Kravitz said._ _

__“FUCK. FUCK. FUCK.”_ _

__“I swear by every being on this-”_ _

__“FUCK, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK-”_ _

__“Fhark?” the raven croaked, head tilted, looking to Kravitz for confirmation and shimmying her feathers. “Fark?”_ _

__“YES! FUCK!”_ _

__“I will skin you,” Kravitz said with no real venom, running a hand over the raven’s beak and shooting a look at Taako. Tutting his tongue, he coaxed the raven onto his hand. The bird pecked at a silver band on his wrist, inquisitive._ _

__“Does it have a name?” Taako asked, leaning against the stone railing._ _

__“Well I suppose her name is now _Fuck_ , seeing as you saw fit to teach her that-”_ _

__“FUCK!” the raven called back, staring Kravitz in the eye, clearly expecting a treat for good behaviour._ _

__Taako giggled, and Kravitz was dismayed to learn that he had an awful, and terribly endearing laugh._ _

__Kravitz looked to the raven and pursed his lips, making a kissy sound. The raven pecked his lips and mimicked it, pulling away and looking up at him, expectant, opening and closing its mouth._ _

__“Clever girl,” he said, low and affectionate. He made a sharp move of his wrist and summoned a piece of meat, throwing it into her waiting mouth._ _

__He and Taako sat in the late moonlight, watching the raven inelegantly choke down a scrap of carrion. Kravitz messed up her head feathers a little then smoothed them again, setting her back on the side to enjoy her treat in peace. Then he turned his attention back to Taako._ _

__“Come to gloat?”_ _

__“No, fucker, I came to see some sick bird tricks,” Taako said, smirking over the rim of his wine glass, eyes bright._ _

__Kravitz glanced to the horizon, and saw it was turning the very dull grey of impending dawn. They were in the last half hour of the party, that much was certain, and it showed through the uncontrollably lively music spilling out onto the balcony, mingling with the sound of the sea. Soon he’d be allowed to sleep for a week, and he’d gladly take it. With the pirate in their cellar._ _

__“Hope I didn’t disappoint,” Kravitz said, weary. He looked over his shoulder to the edge of the palace, how the balconies jutted out over the sea, hanging from the face of the sheer blackened building over the waters that foamed against the cliffs below._ _

__“Oh, never,” Taako said, taking a step closer. “And I don’t know if I mentioned, pumpkin, but you’re not as shitty at dancing as I was expecting.”_ _

__“...Why, thank you.” Kravitz raised an eyebrow._ _

__“No sweat. See, you walk like you’ve got a big stick up your ass, you know?”_ _

__“I see,” Kravitz said, looking down his nose at the impending elf, as Taako worked his way closer._ _

__“But you dance not that shittily. Like, you can tell you’ve had a couple lessons in a ballroom, alone, with a nine hundred year old teacher, and never set foot in a tavern in your whole fuckin life, but not _that_ bad.”_ _

__“Thank you, Mr Mongoose, I think I get the picture.”_ _

__“Relax, you big feathery stud, I’m paying you a compliment.”_ _

__“Are you sure?”_ _

__Taako snorted, and Kravitz noticed how his ears picked up under the hat, nudging the silk lining._ _

__“FUCK!” said the raven, clacking her beak again, nudging closer and pecking Taako’s hand, hard._ _

__“Ow! Fuck off.” Taako wrenched his hand back, scowling down at the bird who stared back at him, clicking her beak open and shut, waiting for her treat for doing good._ _

__“Ha,” said Kravitz, completely monotone, almost smiling for just about a half second. What revelry._ _

__“Oh, I see. You’re setting your fucking attack birds on me now, huh? Come at me, bird man, I’m fuckin jacked, run up mother fucker-”_ _

__Kravitz chuckled low in his chest as Taako squared up to the bird. She took notice of a dangling gem that hung from the brim of his hat and clicked at it a couple times, stretching and pecking it, snapping her beak shut around it and tugging it free with one harsh turn, flapping off inelegantly and swooping away around the edge of the palace, leaving Taako with an incomplete accessory and a mouth hanging wide open._ _

__Kravitz couldn’t hold back a throaty giggle as Taako patted the empty spot where a gem had once hung, colour rising in his cheeks as he looked where “Fuck” the raven had last been spotted._ _

__“That counts as a sacrifice to Her Majesty, if you’re interested in pledging allegiance,” Kravitz said, watching Taako go through the five discrete stages of grief._ _

__“…Fuck you.”_ _

__Kravitz chuckled as Taako turned back to him, nose wrinkled with distaste._ _

__“You owe me a new hat,” said Taako._ _

__“Your invite asked you not to bother the birds. We have complete immunity against any bird-related mishaps,” Kravitz said, smirking with one side of his mouth. “Lord Moradin lost some impressive beard jewellery last year. Shouldn’t have been drinking near the aviary.”_ _

__“Lord Moradin can eat my fuck,” Taako declared, swivelling his hat so a new jewel took centre stage._ _

__“However, I could return it to you. Since you’ll be staying with us a while longer,” Kravitz said, sipping his drink._ _

__“Oh? And how come’s that?” Taako said. “Know better than to outstay my welcome in a place like this.”_ _

__“The guards won’t be letting you out,” Kravitz said. “And there is only one way to leave the palace from the ballroom. I suspect your friends are waiting to launch some sort of rescue mission, but they needn’t bother. We aren’t cruel hosts.”_ _

__Taako scowled up at him. “Sure thing, Kravitz The Reaper,” he muttered, looking out over the sea. “Way to bring the mood down, bucko.”_ _

__“Were you going for a specific mood?” Kravitz asked, turning with him to look out over the sea as the first rays of sunlight turned the sky from navy to grey._ _

__“I wouldn’t have minded one.” Taako said, shrugging and considering his half-empty wine glass. “I’m dry for pretty much the first time in, oh, like a fucking year. Makes you feel all kinds of things.”_ _

__Kravitz could sympathise, albeit reluctantly. Life on the sea was permanently soggy, and he was not a fan._ _

__“The cells are perfectly dry, don’t you worry.”_ _

__“Hatchi-matchi, getting fucking dark there, fella.”_ _

__“Apologies.”_ _

__Kravitz glanced across to Taako, and noticed a smattering of bright freckles across the bridge of his nose. Taako caught him staring._ _

__There was a moment where the music from inside the hall drew to an end, and applause rang around. The light casting their shadows turned from starlight to sunrise, and Taako leaned in, and kissed him._ _

__Kravitz leaned into it, his eyes sliding shut, setting a hand on Taako’s waist. He tasted of the 705 sparkling wine, and his lips were soft, and he was warm all over._ _

__Something in Kravitz’s chest hitched when he heard the sound of a heel landing heavily on stone. His eyes opened and he pulled back to see Taako climbing onto the parapet in his heeled boots, wind whipping his capelet as he pulled the hat on tighter._ _

__“Thanks for the drinks, bud,” Taako said, waving with two fingers. “See you around.”_ _

__He stepped back off the balcony, and free fell down towards the sea._ _

__Everything spun. The wine glass dropped from Kravitz’s numb fingers as he threw himself towards the parapet, leaning over to watch Taako in a flutter of red fabric, one hand on the hat, the other out to steady his fall as he descended, gracefully, slowly, towards the waiting twin red sails of the Starblaster ship._ _

__Kravitz could have torn the parapet clean off with his bare hands._ _

__A hand settled, gentle, elegant, on his shoulder as he heaved a breath through gritted teeth, and Lady Istus laughed softly behind him._ _

__“I was asked to inform you that your ship is waiting safely in my docks for you to collect at your earliest convenience. I was also asked to slap you, and I quote, ‘like really fucking hard’. However, you’ve thrown an excellent party.” She smiled as Kravitz righted himself, gaping like a landed fish. She leaned up and kissed his cheek, squeezing his hand. “Don’t worry about him. He has magic powers,” she said, then turned in a sweep of white silks to where the Raven Queen waited for her, looking unusually warm and soft in the new light._ _

__“Kravitz?” the Queen said, as her Lady took her arm._ _

__“Yes, my Lady?” Kravitz said weakly._ _

__“Take the day off.”_ _

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [Drag Your Cities to the Sea (No Light, No Light)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/17344364) by [Desiree_Harding](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Desiree_Harding/pseuds/Desiree_Harding)




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